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Dalthas Rathan
Email: theoldsoul@hotmail.com Description Eye Color: Brown Hair Color: Black Height: 6'0" Weight: 200 Age: 16 Place of Origin: Shienar Stats Rank: Trainee Weaopon Score: 6 Philosophy: Not Choosen Yet Primary Weapon: Secondary Weapon: Tertiary Weapon: History Features: A solid built youth, he has two scars that look like fangs that run down the sides of his chest. Those are explained below. He carries a bow and short sword as well as a couple of knifes. All of his equipment is well made but obviously not fine quality. He is adept with the quarterstaff and longs to wield a larger sword than his short sword as he gains strength and becomes a man. He is shaved bald and has a small topknot that sticks straight up as it has not been growing for very long. Dalthas? eyes are instense yet at times can look vacant, almost dead. Honor is very important to him as well as his father and brother. He will give his all at all times but can truly only trust a few at any time. Once that trust is broken, it is hard for him to regain. Brief History: Growing up in Shienar was never quite what one expected it to be. Constant danger, fear kept hidden, all these things take their toll even on the young men of the area. Dalthas had been to a few lands south of Shienar and a few of the other Borderlands as well. This gave him an interesting perspective on differing peoples, but took away time from his training he felt. It?s not that his father was a coward?what man wanted to run from his place holding back the Blight? This weighed heavily on his young mind, more often than not accompanied by the blunt end of his father or brother?s staves. Moving about offered different levels of training for the boys, stalking and hunting animals became one of their favorite duties since it also provided the food they would eat. When Dalthas hunted and was unsuccessful sometimes the night bore no food and was quite cold and lonely indeed. One such night was when his life suddenly changed, a breeze of fate he would possibly one day come to understand. The night was cold, harsh, unforgiving, just the way Dalthas liked it. He was on the hunt with his brother Sevren, excitement palpable in the air. Their prey was a wolf who had killed a deer and was hungrily eating his catch. They silently ate snow to help minimize the breath that escaped hoping to avoid notice until the time was right. Sevren, ever the anxious one, moved some and inside Dalthas cringed and hoped all their time had not been wasted. Both boys had short swords and bows their only possessions in the world that they treasured. Neither were of the finest quality, but both silently hoped when they returned home that would change. The small topknots on both of their heads nearly stoof on end since neither had the time to grow it out properly. While this idle thought crossed his mind, Dalthas heard the telltale twang of a bow being released. Damn! Sevren had hit his target and was rushing forward to end the animals suffering with his short sword. Right as he reached the wolf for his kill another wolf jumped out of the bushes and laid viciously into Sevren. Dalthas quickly pulled his bow and shot true hitting the second wolf. Rushing warily to his brother?s aid, Dalthas quickly checked the area for any more wolves. Finding none he turned to his brother who?s wound had already stained the ground crimson. ?Help me brother,? muttered Sevren weakly. Dalthas removed a pair of fangs from each wolf and then began the laborious carrying of his brother back to their camp. While traversing the several miles, Dalthas began to notice the crystallized blood drying on his clothes and had to wonder if other predators in the night would be searching for them. Having bandaged Sevren as best he could, he rushed to get back to camp so his father could tell him what to do. Reaching the camp Dalthas was dumbstruck. His father?s belongings were gone, a lone note set atop his bedroll. Laying Sevren down gently he hurried to read the note only to be struck at the irony of the notes contents. It read: Dalthas, Your brother and you are now both men. I have taught you all that you must know in order to make it back to our home in Shienar. Move with purpose, keep your eyes open and I will see you there. Not now! Why now! His mind screamed in desperation of what to do, knowing each second was causing vital blood to be lost from his brother. He quickly pulled his knife and struck it into the fire, hoping to the Light that it would quickly glow red-hot. One his skinning knife had turned it, he approached Sevren and open the wound on his side and softly mouthed an apology to his nearly dead brother. With a quick motion and single tear forming at the corner of his eye, the knife touched flesh and cauterized the wound as best as he was able. Dalthas knew from recent travels that a small town lay roughly a day?s travel from here. Dalthas quickly packed their things, loaded them onto his back and picked his brother up. Time would tell if he would live to make the journey. The next day blurred into a worried confusion of memories, fears and regrets. About a mile outside of town he had to lay his brother down as he could tell any further movement would only kill him. Setting off at a sprint after making his brother comfortable as possible he pushed himself past exhaustion to reach the small town. He screamed for help in the streets causing most of the citizens to run in fear. Dalthas pounded the dirt in frustration until he noticed a fine looking lady with a very dangerous man approach. ?What is the matter child?? said the lady while the man looked on in contempt. ?It?s?it?s my brother?he?s dying a mile out of town and no one will help. NO ONE WILL HELP!!!? he screamed. ?No one? Well perhaps I can be of some small assistance. Take me to your brother at once!? Without further urging Dalthas rose to his feet and began to sprint his way back to his brother. The woman and man followed on horses, having to trot them at a steady pace to keep up with the desperation induced speed of the young man. They quickly reached Sevren and the lady dismounted and went to touch him. Dalthas could not tell what was done but with what he heard as regret she softly apologized. The words never reached his ears, he felt a part of his soul ripped away. When he finally came to he realized the woman was talking to him. ?Will you be alright? We can stay and help you bury him if you?d like.? ?I?d?I?d be grateful?umm?are you Aes Sedai?? he asked cautiously. ?I am and this is my Warder. We will stay the night with you here and bury him in the morning. Here let me see to you poor child.? With that she touched his head and he felt cold, cold like his soul, cold like this night, cold like the blood crystallized upon his sleeve. His brother. Gone. Dead. Dejected he sat by the fire and pulled out the two pairs of fangs. Before he realized what he was doing, he had stripped his shirt off and wickedly cut two lines down the sides of his chest. In the firelight they gleamed like blood run fangs of their own. The torment in his soul and the drain of the healing finally caused him to collapse into a nightmarish sleep of the past days? events. The next day was well past when he woke up and he found all in preparation for the burial. The ceremony was short and silent except for the two solitary tears that burned down his face. ?Thank you Aes Sedai, Warder. I owe you a debt I cannot fully express. I wish to become a Warder so that perhaps one day I can atone for my brother?s death. Perhaps I can atone for my failure.? The Aes Sedai and Warder looked at the boy critically and seemed to reach some unspoken agreement. ?Very well then boy, what is your name? We will take you with us to Tar Valon if that is your wish. It is not an easy life and will likely bring more pain before the end. Do you still wish to follow us?? ?I do. My honor demands it. My name is Dalthas Rathan, Aes Sedai. I will gladly follow you to Tar Valon. There is nothing left for me.? Nodding the group set back off to town to find a horse for the boy and to make the journey back to Tar Valon. Tar Valon, thought Dalthas, will be the place I become a man to make my brother proud. My father will have to wait. I will see him again as a man and tell him the fate of his son. The scars on his chest would serve as reminders to himself of what it means to be a man. What it means to have honor. Category:WS 6 Category:Trainee Category:Biographies Category:Warder Bios